


Seal My Lips

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 01:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10451886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: Thrawn told C'baoth that he had told the emperor "no" on multiple occasions, and that the first time, the emperor called him a traitor and gave his attack force to another commander. But we all know Thrawn wasn't telling the whole story. Here are the details he chose to gloss over... Rated for sexual themes and implications, as well as minor violence and descriptions of wounds.





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Everything Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm. I claim only my original characters, and those are always up for grabs if you ask nicely. I make no profit off of this drivel.

 

Seal My Lips

Chapter 1

 

"No."

Silence rippled out on the heels of the word, spreading to lap at the corners of the throne room. Thrawn forced himself to breathe normally, bracing himself for the emperor's inevitable outburst. After an eternity, the cloaked figure on the throne stirred.

"Perhaps I misheard you," he hissed, his voice brimming with menace. Thrawn noted how the emperor's hands clutched the armrests of his throne like the claws of an animal and lowered his chin, hoping that the display of deference would help to mollify him.

"Regretfully, Your Majesty, I must decline to press the attack into the Atabegan sector at the moment. The men of my attack force are too inexperienced. Without the assistance of another force—"

Thrawn cut his carefully worded speech short as the Emperor rose to his feet. His hands shook with rage as he raised them toward Thrawn.

"Traitorous alien! Insignificant worm!" Flecks of spittle flew from his lips along with the epithets. "How dare you? You would be nothing without me!" Bolts of lightning flew from his fingertips, sending Thrawn staggering back a few steps. Thrawn grit his teeth against the pain, determined not to cry out. A show of strength against the emperor's wrath could be chancy in the short term, but assuming he survived the next few minutes it made it that much more likely that the emperor would listen and trust his assessments in the future. After a few seconds that seemed to last forever, the barrage let up, and Thrawn fought to stay on his feet as his locked muscles suddenly released.

"Your Majesty, please be reasonable—"

Another bolt of lightning cut his words off, this one more intense than the last. Thrawn was driven to his knees, and as the agony went on and on, an involuntary cry finally escaped his lips.

Apparently satisfied with Thrawn's loss of composure, the Emperor ceased the flow of electricity. Thrawn deemed it wise to swallow his pride and remain on his knees. Not only would it help to placate Palpatine, but he wasn't entirely sure his legs would hold him at the moment.

"I should have known you would betray me. There is a very good reason I don't trust aliens. I thought it safe to make an exception in your case, but clearly my trust has been misplaced."

Thrawn took a breath to reply—

"Be silent!"

Thrawn swallowed his words and focused on his body language, realigning it from frustration to penitence. The emperor watched him in silence, probably hoping he would speak and planning what to do to him if he did.

"You will suffer long for this betrayal," he finally said. Thrawn fought not to show his relief that he wasn't to be executed summarily for his act of defiance—one he deemed necessary despite the risks it entailed. "Don't think I haven't noticed your pride," Palpatine continued. "I know just how to bring you low." He gestured with one hand, ripping Thrawn's rank bars off his uniform with the Force and tossing them casually to the ground. He returned to his throne, seating himself and activating the comm built into the arm of the throne.

"Bring me a slave collar at once," he ordered the aide on the other end of the line. "Make sure it is one with some sort of disobedience control."

Rage rose in Thrawn as he realized the emperor's intentions, and he forced it back with great effort. He reminded himself that this would only last a short while, until Palpatine realized that Thrawn had been right.

"And summon Senior Captain Shiro to my presence as well," Palpatine continued, waiting until the man acknowledged before terminating the call. The silence stretched out for several minutes, and Thrawn fought the urge to explain himself, suspecting that the emperor was trying to pressure him into doing just that.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

Thrawn risked a glance at Palpatine's face and found it composed, if not calm. He certainly wasn't ready to trust Thrawn's judgment, but he seemed to have mastered his rage.

"I have not betrayed you, Your Majesty," he said softly.

Palpatine gave a soft snort. "Save your words for someone who believes them."

Thrawn had not really expected him to believe or understand just yet, but in a few days, when Thrawn's replacement had failed the suicide mission the emperor had originally ordered Thrawn to do, he would remember Thrawn's words. Thrawn had to trust that his assurances now would pave the way for a triumphant return.

After a few more minutes passed in tense silence, the door of the throne room opened to admit a robed aide. He bowed deeply before approaching the throne.

The emperor gestured lazily at Thrawn. "Put it on him."

The aide complied silently, and Thrawn clenched his jaw at the unpleasant, claustrophobic pressure around his throat. The aide came to the edge of the throne's dais and stopped. "The controls, Your Majesty."

The emperor levitated the controller using the Force, moving it from the aide's hand to his own. Thrawn wondered at Palpatine's surprising use of his sorcerous powers in front of others; no doubt it was a symptom of his loss of self-control.

"Do you require anything else, Your Majesty?" the aide asked, bowing again.

The emperor pondered for a few seconds. "Yes," he said slowly. "Two weeks ago I attended the debut of a young singer. Find her and summon her to my presence at once. And bring some kind of jumpsuit for this scum," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Something hideous, preferably."

"Right away, Your Majesty." The man bowed a final time and left.

.~*

Thrawn kept his eyes on the floor, listening as the emperor gave Senior Captain Shiro his orders. Palpatine had tested the collar's controls, alternately shocking and strangling him until Thrawn feared he would lose his composure. Then he had declared him unfit to wear an Imperial officer's uniform. Now he was wearing a somewhat scratchy jumpsuit in an obscene yellow-green color. He had been made to sit on the floor near the emperor's throne like a disobedient pet, forced to listen as his attack force was handed over to someone else.

He found it frustrating in the extreme being unable to do a thing as the emperor took all his careful training, all the promising men under his command, and short-sightedly jettisoned them into the heart of the nearest star. Not for the first time, he reminded himself that he had done all he could.

"You have your orders, Senior Captain Shiro. Carry them out."

The senior captain saluted crisply. "Yes, my Emperor." He executed a precise about-face and strode purposefully to the door of the throne room. Before the door could slide closed behind him, someone else entered the room.

Thrawn raised his head to study the new arrival. She was a young human woman, most likely in her mid-20s. She was wearing an understated tunic and slacks, not what someone would wear if they expected to visit the emperor. Most likely this was the singer Palpatine had summoned.

"Amarylla Terabine," announced the page from the doorway.

Thrawn looked closer. Now that he had a name, he recognized the woman's face from her debut a few weeks back. She looked very different dressed in casual clothing and with her hair down.

She approached the throne, stopping the required three meters away from the dais, and sank into a deep curtsy. She managed to make it look practiced and elegant even without a skirt.

The emperor studied her for a long moment. "You may rise."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she said, straightening.

"I have summoned you here because I was greatly pleased by your performance. I wish to give you a gift, a token of my esteem." He gestured at Thrawn, and her eyes widened in surprise. "He has served me well until recently; now he will serve you in whatever capacity you desire."

She stared at Thrawn for a moment, eyes still wide, then dropped her gaze to the floor. "You are too kind to me, Your Majesty. Surely I don't deserve a gift of this magnitude."

"On the contrary, my dear. I know you to be an alien lover. Who better could I give him to?"

She froze for an instant before recovering. When she spoke, her words had an unhurried, carefully chosen cadence. "It is very considerate of you to take my preferences into account, Your Majesty."

Palpatine watched her, a small smile playing about his lips. Then he turned. "Come here, Thrawn," he commanded.

Thrawn stood and approached the throne, and the emperor placed the controller for his collar in his hand. "Give this to her."

He turned mechanically to obey, his mind racing. A thousand possible scenarios chased each other through his head…but none of them ended with his redemption and reinstatement. A bit reluctantly, he handed the small chunk of duraplast to the woman.

"You may find," Palpatine said as Thrawn stepped to the side, "that he is a bit stubborn and prideful. The collar will keep him from harming or disobeying you."

Standing next to her, Thrawn could see that the woman was nervous and upset, though she hid it fairly well. She studied the controller for a few seconds before pocketing it.

"I don't even know how to thank you, Your Majesty," she said, and Palpatine chuckled, a dry, raspy sound.

"Just don't use him too roughly; I may have need of him again someday." He waved his hand. "You are dismissed."

The singer curtsied again. "Thank you, Your Majesty." She turned and left, and Thrawn was left to follow in her wake.

A young lieutenant met them at the door. He did a double-take when he saw Thrawn but apparently knew better than to say anything. "If you'll follow me, miss?"

He led the way through the maze of passages and turbolifts in the heart of the Imperial Palace. After several minutes of walking in silence, Thrawn decided to poke the zhirva nest.

"You don't seem particularly pleased with your gift."

Amarylla gave him a sharp warning look, then covered it quickly with a sweet smile when their escort turned back to glance at them. "Why would you say such a thing?"

It sounded like an innocent question, but Thrawn understood the double meaning easily. "You've been rather preoccupied, perhaps even disinterested, since the emperor dismissed you," he replied with a shrug.

She lifted her chin. "I have been considering how best you might serve me," she said archly. "I will inform you once I have decided what I require from you."

There was nothing he could say to that, at least not in the palace with listening ears all around them. The group lapsed into a silence that lasted the rest of the way to the palace's garage.

.~*

The lieutenant courteously walked them to the door of Amarylla's apartment. She unlocked the door, gesturing for Thrawn to proceed, but paused before entering herself.

"Thank you for the ride," she said politely.

The lieutenant demurred. "Just doing my job, miss."

Thrawn listened to their conversation with half an ear as he took in the apartment. It was done in a subdued style and seemed to be neatly organized aside from odd bits of clutter here and there. He saw no artwork in the kitchen or dining room, into which the foyer opened, aside from a lamp on the high counter made of a mosaic of colored transparisteel.

He heard the door close and turned back to see Amarylla leaning against the now-closed door, eyes shut and with a look of exhaustion on her face. A moment later she pushed herself off the door, striding to the kitchen's refrigeration unit and pulling out a bottle.

"Wine?" she offered, decanting the dark liquid into a tall-stemmed goblet.

"No thank you, mistress."

She winced. "Please don't call me that."

He raised an eyebrow. "And what should I call you?"

She began to sip at her wine. "You may as well call me Ama, at least in private. I have the feeling we're going to get to know one another pretty well."

He shrugged mentally and seated himself at her table. She stood across the room, leaning against the counter and staring at her wine as if the deep blue liquid was withholding answers she needed.

"You seem a bit distressed," he ventured, reasonably confident she wouldn't be upset at him for speaking without an invitation.

She heaved a sigh and straightened to face him. "Nobody bothered to explain beforehand why the emperor wanted to see me. Needless to say, I've had a rather stressful evening."

He deliberated for a moment whether or not to speak. "If it's any consolation, I doubt the ones who brought you in knew any more than you did at the time."

She studied him. "Do I even want to know what you did to anger him?"

He grimaced slightly. "I'd rather not discuss it."

She nodded, seeming to accept that.

He watched her closely for a moment, but she remained silent. "You could order me to explain, you realize?"

She winced a bit at his bluntness. "Perhaps, but it's hardly any of my business."

He rose and stalked toward her, making a point of how much taller and stronger he was. "Do you intend to issue me any commands at all?"

"Sure," she replied. He could see signs of nervousness in her posture, but she refused to back down. "Don't kill me. Don't hurt me. Don't try to get me in trouble. Don't break my stuff." She shrugged. "I'll let you know if I think of anything else." She gave him a small, hesitant smile. "If you hadn't guessed already, I've got no use for a slave. Something I'm sure the emperor knows well," she added, her expression darkening.

Thrawn leaned on the counter, toning back the aggression in his posture. "Really? When he called you an alien lover, I had assumed…" She blushed deeply, clearly uncomfortable with his insinuation. "No?" he said, not bothering to disguise the amusement in his voice.

"Not like that," she said, embarrassed. "I was involved with the Equality Movement when I was younger. And you know the saying, Intelligence never forgets."

"So you wouldn't sleep with an alien."

He was amused to discover that her face could turn an even deeper shade of red. "That's not what I meant, either," she said, flustered. "It's just, I mean, it's not a big deal. Species, I mean." She gave up and took a deep drink from her wine, draining the cup. "Whatever. Let me show you to the guest room."

Thrawn decided he'd had enough fun at her expense this evening and followed her in silence. He reflected with dark humor that his stay here might not be too terrible after all. If nothing else, Ama was fun to tease.


	2. Chapter 2

Thrawn slept in unusually late the next morning, no doubt because of the stress and the injuries he'd suffered the previous evening. When he emerged from the room Ama had given him, he found her sitting at the holonet terminal. He glanced over her shoulder and saw she was apparently doing some research on him.

"If you wanted to know more about me, you could have simply asked."

She started at the sound of his voice, then turned around partway to look at him. "I saw no reason to wake you. I got to wondering this morning about what the emperor might have meant about needing you back someday." She gestured at the terminal before her. "The publicly available information makes it pretty clear that you're some kind of wizard tactician. Unless there's some other reason you can think of?"

He considered explaining about the ill-advised mission he had declined and the nigh-certainty that its imminent failure would lead to his reinstatement. But then, he really didn't owe her anything, so he settled on a shrug.

"No matter," she said. "There's breakfast on the kitchen counter if you're hungry."

Thrawn perused the fruit and pastries she had left out, forcing himself to eat a good-sized meal despite having little appetite. After finishing, he remained sitting at the table, considering his next possible move. Before he had come to any decision, Ama came bustling into the room, moving with a purpose.

"Going somewhere?" he asked laconically.

She stopped dead in her tracks to stare at him. "Yes, actually," she said. "I'm recording today." She frowned thoughtfully. "You're welcome to come with me to the studio if you want. I'm afraid it won't be very interesting; I'll be singing one phrase over and over again until everyone agrees that it's perfect, then doing it all over again with the next."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll pass."

She nodded. "There's no password for the holonet. Can you cook for yourself?"

He tried not to feel insulted. "Yes. I'll be fine."

"Right. Make yourself at home, then," she said, giving him a preoccupied smile before leaving.

.~*

When he heard the front door of the apartment open, Thrawn made his way to the kitchen. Ama was in the dining room, setting some bags on the table.

"There was a call for you while you were gone," Thrawn informed her.

"Oh? Who was it?"

"I don't know. It occurred to me that anyone expecting you to answer might be a bit alarmed to find a strange man instead. Whoever it was left a message for you."

She nodded. "Right, good point. Thanks." She gestured at the table. "This is for you." She brushed past him on her way out of the room, and he went to look through the bags.

He found them full of clothes, enough for three or four outfits, as well as a pair of comfortable-looking shoes. Apparently she didn't like his jumpsuit any more than he did. He gathered up the bags and went to his room to change.

He heard an unfamiliar female voice coming from the living room, no doubt Ama playing the message she had received earlier. After a minute he heard Ama speaking, but with his door closed he couldn't understand what she was saying. He changed quickly and emerged, curious as to who might have called Ama. From the tone of the conversation, it sounded like the woman she was talking to was a good friend.

"—going well. Sure, it's a bit tedious, but it'll sound great once it's done."

"That's good to hear. Things are going well for me at work. Rumor is that I'm one of three people being considered for a promotion."

"That's great!" Ama's voice practically bubbled with enthusiasm. Thrawn stopped outside the doorway to the living room, staying out of sight. "If anyone deserves that promotion, it's you."

The other woman laughed. "Well, we'll see. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to ride together to the convention next week. I expect parking will be at a premium." A long silence followed her words. "Ama?"

"There is…a complication," Ama said heavily. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to go."

"What happened? Did someone threaten you?"

"No, I'm fine. It's, well, it's complicated. Maybe you should come over so we can talk sometime soon."

"I don't have any plans for this evening, are you free?"

"Yeah, I'll be here all evening. Come on over whenever you can."

"Okay, hila, I'll be there in an hour or so, unless traffic is bad."

"Okay. Thanks." Ama sounded close to tears. "It means a lot to me."

The call ended. Thrawn was just about to slip away so as to avoid being caught eavesdropping when a loud crash came from the living room. He counted a few seconds before hurrying in.

"Is everything all right?"

Ama was standing in front of the holonet terminal, head down and hands fisted at her sides. The chair that sat in front of the terminal was knocked over onto its side. A quick glance around the room showed nothing else out of place, no source of danger, so he focused on Ama.

She was obviously furious, though, having vented her anger on the chair, she was making an effort to calm down. After a few deep breaths she spoke. "I'm fine, just upset."

He refrained from commenting that this was obvious. "Anything you'd like to talk about?"

She began pacing the length of the room, and Thrawn discreetly picked up the overturned chair and put it back in its place.

"Three years," she said, her anger still obvious in her tone. "For three years now, I've been building my prestige and influence in order to convince my followers to take action against slavery. And for what?" Her voice rose steadily in pitch and volume. "For him to make it all worthless!" She pulled up abruptly from her pacing, dragged a hand through her hair, and flopped down on the sofa.

Thrawn seated himself at the holonet station, keeping an eye on Ama as he perused the day's news on a datapad. She was still sitting there looking morose when a chime sounded through the apartment. Thrawn glanced up at the sound and saw Ama get up and leave the room. A few moments later he heard indistinct female voices conversing at the far end of the apartment. He let his gaze unfocus, tracking the sounds…and sure enough, they were getting closer.

He glanced up as Ama reentered the room followed closely by another human woman. The other woman's eyes went wide upon seeing him.

"Ama?"

Ama grimaced before answering the woman's unspoken question. "This would be the complication I mentioned. He was a _gift_ —" she leaned hard on the word, her tone ironic "—from the emperor."

"A gift?" the woman repeated, looking horrified.

Ama sighed. "Yeah, and not the kind I could politely refuse. I did try." She turned to face him. "Thrawn, this is my friend Suki. Suki, this is Thrawn."

"A pleasure," Suki said mechanically. Thrawn nodded briefly and turned back to the news article he was reading on the datapad. The two women left the room, and he dismissed them from his mind.

About an hour later he went to the kitchen to get some food and found them sitting at the table whispering and giggling together, eating what appeared to be some sort of confection. They quieted for a moment when he entered the room, then Suki elbowed Ama and the whispering resumed.

He spared a thought for the strangeness of females of any and every species as he glanced over the contents of the refrigeration unit, looking for something to eat. He finally settled on a ready-to-eat dish of steamed bruallki with shellap on the side, pulling it out and placing it in the warmer.

"Have you ever had namana candy?"

Thrawn turned around. Ama was watching him curiously, making it clear that her question was intended for him. He studied the yellow-orange discs in the box she held. "I can't say that I have."

"Would you like to? They're quite good."

The warmer chimed behind him, signaling that his food was ready. "Perhaps later," he said with a cool smile, turning to retrieve the dish. He debated for a moment where to eat it; he didn't particularly want to intrude on the women's conversation by sitting at the table, but Ama might not appreciate his bringing food out of the food area of the apartment. He finally set his dinner on the counter, leaning forward to eat.

From this position, it was impossible not to watch Ama and Suki, though there was enough space between them that he didn't feel like he was intruding. Watching the two of them together, Thrawn reflected that it was for the best that Suki had come to visit. Far from earlier, when she'd been angry, and later, morose, Ama was now relaxed, happy, and laughing. It was a remarkable transformation for such a short period of time. He watched closely for signs that Ama might be acting, putting on a brave face for her friend, but all indications were that the change was genuine.

Now, if only his own frustrations could be so easily forgotten by the presence of sweets and companionship. He toyed for a moment with the idea of getting Parck to come by for a visit, but finally gave it up for the fantasy that it was. Seeing his longtime supporter and friend would certainly improve his spirits, but even if Voss was still on Coruscant, there was no doubt he was being watched. Bringing him under fire would serve no purpose.

Suki elbowed Ama, whose face blushed bright red in response. Apparently, he wasn't the only person to derive enjoyment from the singer's easily-triggered embarrassment. He tuned in to the conversation.

"What about you?" Ama said softly. "That guy in marketing, the one with the goatee. How has he been doing?"

This time, it was Suki's turn to flush. She mumbled something inaudible to Thrawn.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Ama said, her expression the picture of innocence.

"He's always talking to Suzenne. I don't see any point in getting my heart broken."

"Maybe. But how will you know if you don't at least try talking to him?" Ama gave her friend a wicked smile. "Maybe he'll turn out to be utterly vapid and you'll be able to move on."

Suki shrugged, taking a piece of the candy and closing her eyes as she savored it.

"You should call him. Right now, before you lose your nerve. Just invite him to have a cup of caf with you on Primeday or something."

Suki sighed. "I don't know." She glanced at her wrist chrono and her eyes went almost comically wide. "Stars! I'm definitely not calling him this late!"

Ama frowned at the chrono on the wall. "Stang, when did it get to be after 2200?"

Suki stood, and Ama followed suit. "I've got to go. I need to be up early tomorrow."

"I'm sorry I kept you up so late moaning about my troubles."

Suki waved a hand, then embraced her friend as they reached the door of the apartment. "You do the same for me on a regular basis. It's nothing."

"Well…alright. Drive safe, okay?"

After Suki was gone, Ama stared at the door for a moment, then crossed the room to the refrigeration unit. She poured herself a glass of wine, giving Thrawn a speculative look before replacing the bottle without a word. She seated herself again at the table, and Thrawn took his nearly-finished meal and sat down across from her.

"Feeling a bit better, I take it?"

She smiled. "Yeah." She waved a hand at the sweets still sitting on the table. "Suki knows just how to cheer me up." She eyed them thoughtfully before popping another one in her mouth.

"I take it you have a fondness for sweets?"

"I won't deny that I do. But these are something special."

Her body language had relaxed even a bit more since eating the confection, and Thrawn found himself a bit intrigued. Pushing aside his now-empty plate, he picked up one of the candies. It was lighter than he'd expected, airy rather than solid, and when he tasted it, it dissolved slowly on his tongue in a burst of complex flavor. It was richly sweet, but with an exotic, almost floral undercurrent and a faint hint of some unfamiliar spice.

"These are surprisingly good," Thrawn commented.

Ama smiled in response. "Right?"

Thrawn found himself smiling back. "I'm glad you're feeling better." He was feeling decidedly more cheery as well, and upon realizing this a soft but insistent feeling of concern began to steal across his mind. Nothing had changed in the last few minutes to prompt his change of mood except for finishing his food and eating one of the candies.

"It's nice to know that you care," Ama was saying. "I was beginning to think you didn't much like me."

Thrawn nodded, still distracted by the turn his thoughts had taken. "What kind of confection are these, again?"

Ama picked up the lid of the dish and frowned at the label. "They're made from namana fruit. Imported from some planet called Bakura, apparently."

"Might I borrow that?" Thrawn asked, extending a hand toward the lid. Ama handed it to him, and he rose, heading for the holonet terminal. He ran a basic search for namana fruit, sifting through the results until he found a reputable source with the information he sought.

Ama entered the room and came to stand at his shoulder, looking at the screen.

"When processed, the fruit induces a mild sense of euphoria in humans and most carbon-based life forms," he read aloud. Ama made a thoughtful sound, and he twisted partway around to look at her.

She seemed interested rather than upset, judging by her facial expression. "Poor Suki," she murmured. "I'll bet she didn't even know." Thrawn raised an eyebrow in a silent query, and she clarified. "Suki doesn't use any kind of mind- or mood-altering substances. It's a cultural thing for her. She doesn't even drink alcohol, and she barely touches caf." She shrugged. "There's no way she would have bought them if she had any idea."

Thrawn ended the holonet session and leaned back in the chair. "No doubt she asked the clerk at the confectionery what would be a good choice for cheering up a friend, or something along those lines."

She chuckled. "Probably." There was a moment of silence, one that was difficult for Thrawn to interpret since he couldn't see Ama's face or body language. When she spoke again, her voice came hesitantly. "I get the impression you didn't particularly enjoy having your mood affected, either. If I had realized, I would have warned you."

He shrugged, standing up. "I realized it quickly enough on my own. No harm done."

"How did you figure it out so quickly, anyway?"

He had been on his way out of the room, heading to retrieve his dishes from the table, but he paused in the doorway. "I began feeling far more positively about my situation than I had any reason to."

"Thrawn…that's not right." She sounded upset, but he didn't turn to look at her. "That's not how things should be." She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I wish there was something I could do."

When he spoke, he kept his voice low to soften the impact of his words. "Unfortunately, we must deal with what is, not what we wish could be." She didn't respond to that, and he slipped away.


	3. Chapter 3

I borrowed a line from "Hitchhiker" by Shezan (which you should all read, if you haven't already). Bonus points to anyone who recognizes it.

Chapter 3

The sound of Ama's alarm coming through the wall woke Thrawn the next morning. He dressed slowly, considering what he could accomplish today. He was not accustomed to inaction, preferring instead to either accomplish his will himself or influence others to act on his behalf. Now, however, he was effectively neutralized, and any contact he made with others would be observed and scrutinized.

He continued to ponder the issue as he took a quick sanisteam. Sure, he would most likely have to tolerate only a week or so of helplessness and inaction, but he didn't much care to be isolated from the political arena for even that long. A horrible thought occurred to him: what if the emperor took his request for additional troops seriously? In that case, his replacement might not fail miserably like he was expecting. Now there was a worrying thought.

He looked at the possibility from all angles, eventually determining that he could do nothing about it, so worrying would be a waste of time and energy. He would keep it in the back of his mind in case an opportunity to act arose, but there was nothing he could do from here except wait and watch.

Of course, that meant he couldn't afford to hide in Ama's apartment indefinitely. For one thing, the emperor would not be favorably impressed by timidity. He decided it was time to stir the pot and see what floated to the surface. He needed to be seen outside the apartment, perhaps even create some kind of routine, and see who, if anyone, came to see him. Even gloating enemies would inadvertently give him information about the political happenings he was even now missing.

A smile quirked his lips as he pictured Ama trying to act imperious and snobbish. Hopefully any enemies of his who came to see him wouldn't see through her act, or would be focused on him instead of her.

With a tentative plan in place, he left the 'fresher and headed to the kitchen. Ama was there, preparing what looked like a pot of borameal.

"Are you going out today?" Thrawn asked her.

She nodded. "I'll be leaving in about two hours to do some more recording." She gave him a brief smile. "It's not the most interesting thing in the galaxy, but it might beat being cooped up here. Plus, then we can do some grocery shopping afterwards."

Thrawn inclined his head slightly. "I would like to accompany you today, if I may."

"Of course," she said, and ladled out a bowl of the steaming breakfast grain. "Hungry?"

.~*

Thrawn reflected as he helped Ama put away groceries that the two of them worked well together. She tended to speak little and was clearly well-versed in reading body language, reacting to his non-verbal cues without a need to speak. He was also glad she'd taken him along when restocking her larder. Her taste in food was rather different from his own, and he was relieved he wouldn't have to partake in some of her odder food preferences.

It had also been enlightening to see Ama work. She had a friendly, joking manner around those she knew well, but when it came time to work she showed a high degree of focus and discipline. Skill, too, he reflected; it hadn't been nearly as tedious a process as he'd feared.

Of course, at the grocer's he had been the logical choice to retrieve something heavy from a high shelf. He had tried to hide his pain, but Ama noticed his wince and demanded to know what was wrong with him. That had prompted a trip to a pharmacy, since he wasn't willing to go to an instant care clinic and he—and Ama, apparently—had basic healer training.

When they returned to the apartment, Ama had wanted to see to his injuries immediately, but he prevailed by pointing out that most of the groceries were perishable and that he had survived his injuries for more than a day, so it could wait a few more minutes. She hadn't seemed too happy, but had bowed to his logic.

"This is the last of it," Thrawn said as he set a box and two bags on the counter. Ama nodded, absorbed in putting away the groceries he had brought in, and he leaned on the counter to watch her work. He figured it would be nice, and perhaps even useful, to have an idea of where things belonged in her kitchen.

She glanced in the box at his elbow. "You can put those perplums in the bottom drawer of the refrigeration unit."

It did not escape his notice that she had phrased it as a request; in fact, since the first evening when he had intimidated her, she hadn't given him a single order except when she had insisted on knowing the extent of his injuries. And even then, he thought as he picked up the box of small tart fruits, he doubted she had done it consciously or intentionally.

By the time he finished putting the perplums away, the only bags left on the counter were from the pharmacy. Thrawn handed the empty box to Ama for her to discard or put away as she preferred and grabbed the bags of medical supplies while she was occupied with that. The dining room table seemed like the best place to go about patching himself up, having chairs, a flat surface, and good lighting, so he sat down there and began laying out the bacta patches, synthflesh, and painkilling gel on the table in front of him.

"Let me at least help you with your shirt," Ama said.

Thrawn considered refusing her help since he really didn't need it, but she had a glint in her eye that implied she wouldn't take kindly to any stubbornness on his part. So he waited for her to come behind him and take the hem of his shirt, then raised his arms so she could pull it over his head.

He heard a soft hiss of intaken breath as his shirt came away and suppressed a sigh. He hadn't seen his back, but it was clear to him that she was simply being overdramatic in the way that females usually were around injured males.

"Looks to me like you understated the extent of your injuries a bit," she said neutrally.

He glanced down at his chest. There was a sparse patchwork of electricity burns on his shoulders, arms, and pectorals which trailed away down his abdomen. The skin was blistered in places and blackened in others, with raw red flesh peeping through here and there. But since he'd been facing the emperor when he'd been electrocuted, his back shouldn't be nearly as bad as the front.

"I can dress the wounds on the front if you get the ones on my back," he said, reaching for a bacta patch.

"Sure," she said, her tone still a bit strange. "Don't forget the painkillers."

He suppressed a flash of annoyance and picked up the painkilling gel, spreading a light coat over the injuries on his front. When he was finished, he handed it to Ama, who began applying it here and there on his back, mostly on his shoulders, upper arms, and the sides of his ribs.

"How could you stand the pain without saying anything?" The words burst from her as though she had been holding them back for some time.

He considered long and hard before answering. Finally, he simply said, "I'd have no business being a soldier if I couldn't stand some amount of discomfort."

She made no response to that, and without seeing her face he couldn't tell if she was incredulous or had simply accepted his words at face value.

He finished applying the bacta patches and began using the synthflesh to seal the smaller wounds and the places where the patches didn't quite meet. When he handed her the tube of synthflesh, there was nothing to distract him from the feeling of her fingers brushing delicately over his skin. The painkiller seemed to be a fast-acting one, and the pain of his injuries was all but gone, leaving a relatively pleasant numbness in its wake.

She seemed to take a long time about applying the synthflesh, but he knew that was partly because of his impatience to finish the process. Of course, the wounds on his back weren't nearly as severe as those on his front. As a result, they needed fewer bacta patches and more synthflesh. Still, those feather-light touches were distracting, and he was grateful when it was finally over.

"All done," she said. "Let the synthflesh dry for about five minutes before putting your shirt back on." He nodded his acquiescence and stood. "I must say," she went on, "that synthflesh really makes a great match for your skin tone."

He glanced down, paying attention now to the sharp contrast between the tan color of the synthflesh and his own blue skin. Clearly, she was being droll.

"Fetching, isn't it?" he replied in kind, turning to catch her eye. He noticed a faint blush on her cheeks and let a smile creep across his lips. "Enjoying the view?"

Predictably, she blushed even more deeply. "Hardly," she said, striving for poise and falling a bit short. "Your wounds are just shy of horrifying."

He closed the distance between them, stopping just inside her personal space. "Stick to singing, Ama. Acting isn't your forte."

She dropped her eyes at that, unable to hold his gaze, and he wondered abruptly what was going through her head.

"I might enjoy the view now and again," she said softly, "but I would never use you in that way."

His instinct was to press her, to keep teasing, but there had been something incredibly honest and vulnerable in her words and tone. He decided it wasn't worth discouraging that honesty for some short-term entertainment. Still, at least a daily bandage change would give him a good excuse to parade around shirtless in front of her. Her reactions to that would provide plenty of entertainment. Not to mention that he'd need her help to reach the injuries on his back. Yes, he could get plenty of mileage out of that.

"Were those all of your injuries?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, then grimaced. "No. There are also some under the collar, but I don't know if you can get to those."

She frowned and left the room. She came back with the controller, peering closely at it. "One of these buttons has to release it."

He debated keeping his silence, but he found himself reluctant to get Ama in trouble unnecessarily. What's more, if she took it off, he doubted he could bring himself to let her put it back on, and that would cause problems down the road when the emperor called him back. "That may not be wise. If I know the emperor, he will have some way of knowing if you remove the collar."

She shrugged, unconcerned. "It only needs to be for a few minutes."

He stepped closer to her. "And what makes you think I'll let you put it back on me if you take it off?"

She looked up at him, seeming to notice the breadth of his shoulders and the smooth, corded tone of his muscles for the first time. "To be honest, I hadn't given it a thought." She gazed at him, some internal battle taking place in her mind, then put a hand on his bicep. "Sit down, please."

Surprised at the unexpected touch and at the way she abruptly took charge, he let her coax him back into his seat. She went around behind him, fiddled with the collar's clasp. After a minute she managed to loosen it enough to move it down, baring the skin it had been covering. She was silent for several seconds, and even without seeing her face he sensed that there was something terrible about her stillness. He deemed it best to remain still and silent as she applied painkilling gel and synthflesh to the ligature bruises and singed flesh around his throat. When she finished, she stalked out of the room without a word, her movements swift and threatening.

.~*

The next day, after he and Ama returned from her recording studio, Thrawn went to the 'fresher and retrieved the medical supplies she had bought the previous day. She had put them with the rest of her basic healing kit after bandaging his wounds. As it turned out, she had needed those supplies; her basic healing kit had a good variety of bandages and treatments, but not very much of any of them.

He found Ama in the kitchen, putting something in the slow cooker for dinner.

"Once you're finished with that," he said, "would you mind taking care of my back?"

"Of course," she said, her gaze lingering on him for a moment. He took advantage of her distraction and pulled his shirt off, turning as he did so to present her with his profile. He was careful not to look at her; with any luck she'd take a moment to ogle him, and if he caught her doing so, it would break the spell and put her on her guard in the future.

He turned one of the dining chairs to the side so he could sit with his back partly to her, with the chair's back to his left where it would be out of the way. He peeled back his bandages, taking a moment to inspect his wounds. All of the raw flesh had healed over, and some of the minor burns were now the fresh purplish blue of new skin.

He felt a pang of guilt for his men, even now on their way to destruction, but quashed it ruthlessly. He reapplied the painkilling gel lightly to the few remaining sore areas, then covered the still-healing wounds with bacta bandages.

Ama left the room, then came back, coming over to him as he was peeling back the adhesive protectant on another bandage. She reached in front of him to pick up the painkilling gel, then moved behind him, peeling off the bandages he hadn't been able to reach before applying the painkiller rather more heavily than he would have. A few bacta bandages followed, then she reached past him for the synthflesh. He found it a bit easier to withstand her light touches knowing that she almost certainly found it more distracting than he did.

She did the same for the bandages on his throat. "This is looking much better," she said. "I'm sure you'll appreciate not needing any more bacta bandages on your neck."

"Just so," he said a bit wryly. "They aren't terribly flexible." She worked in silence for a moment, then he said, "Those wounds were never that bad to begin with.”

"Perhaps not," she said with a touch of asperity, "but their severity wasn't what made me so angry." After a long moment of silence, she asked softly, "Is that what the collar does, then? Shocks and strangles you?"

"Yes," he said neutrally.

She put the synthflesh back on the table. "That's awful," she said. "How can you stand it?"

"I don't really have a choice," he said in a tone that didn't invite further questioning.

"Well, you're all done," she said, coming forward but stopping when she caught sight of his chest. "Did you forget to use the synthflesh?"

He glanced down at his front, feigning surprise. "Do you think it needs some?"

He saw her dither back and forth for a moment. "Here, let me." She leaned in close, her fingers gently dabbing synthflesh here and there, over minor wounds and at the edges of the bandages. Her face flushed slightly at the prolonged contact, and he pretended not to notice. She finished quickly and turned her back to him, gathering up the remaining medical supplies. He stood, and their proximity put him well inside her personal space.

She turned to go, and suddenly they were face to face. He put a hand on her forearm as her face flushed again.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I'm not used to having someone worry about me."

She dropped her eyes and mumbled something incomprehensible before fleeing the room. He permitted a smile to cross his lips as he watched her retreating back. Perhaps something good might come from this debacle after all.

.~*

So, I googled some pictures of electricity burns to get an idea of what they look like. I strongly recommend you don't do that; they're pretty gross.


	4. Chapter 4

By the third day Thrawn accompanied Ama to her recording studio, they were beginning to settle into a routine. Thrawn would chat with the techs and service beings when they had spare time, being friendly and discreetly getting his name out. When he and Ama returned to the apartment, they would change his bandages, and for the next few minutes as the synthflesh dried he would make conversation with her, secretly enjoying her distraction and embarrassment. When he tired of that, he would retreat to his room or the sitting room to learn all he could about political and military happenings in the last day.

Today looked like it would be no exception. Ama cast a critical eye over his chest as he carefully peeled back the bandages.

“It’s looking a lot better,” she said, sounding pleased. “I don’t think you’ll need the bacta patches after tomorrow.” She came around behind him and began taking off the bandages he couldn’t reach.

“Of course,” she said, her tone studiously casual, “if you’d just taken a bacta bath, you’d have been fully recovered in twelve to eighteen hours.”

“I have my reasons for refusing that route,” he said, finding he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, however well-meant.

“I don’t doubt it,” she said, an edge of scorn in her voice. Perhaps she thought she was hiding it well, but he was quite adept at reading humans.

“I would be absolutely fascinated to hear what you think those reasons could be,” he said, his tone cool.

“It’s obviously another form of self-punishment. Whatever the emperor knocked you down for clearly still has you upset with yourself. Why else would you try and conceal your injuries from me? You didn’t even try to treat them until I insisted. Refusing the quick and easy treatment is just an extension of that, a compromise, since you probably guessed I would insist you get some care.”

He glanced over his shoulder, amusement curving his lips. “A nice theory, but a bit off point. I have numerous political enemies here on Coruscant, and anyone checked into a public medical facility can be found easily by a good slicer. I didn’t want to take the risk that someone would try to eliminate me while I was trapped in a bacta tank.”

She was silent for a moment. “Maybe, but that still doesn’t explain why you hid your injuries in the first place.”

“I have my reasons for that as well,” he said softly, turning back to face forward.

She didn’t respond to that, though he could picture her, face hard and lips compressed as she worked on his back. He dismissed the image. It wasn’t his problem if she wanted to waste her time trying to figure him out.

She finished bandaging his back and came around the chair, stopping when she saw his chest bare of bandages.

“Would you like me to finish bandaging you?”

He briefly entertained the notion of getting her to work on his chest, where he could see her face and better judge her reaction to him. But the set of her jaw brought him to the conclusion that any data he gathered right now would be anomalous.

“I was just waiting for you to finish,” he said, grabbing a bacta bandage to prove the truth of his words.

“Right,” she said, and continued on her way out of the room.

It didn’t take him long to dress the wounds on his chest, but even so Ama returned before he had finished, stopping to stand against the wall by the doorway. No doubt checking to make sure he was taking proper care of himself, he thought irritably, and ignored her as he finished.

He gathered up the bits of waste from the bandages and rose to put them in the incinerator. He caught a glimpse of Ama’s face as he did so and realized that something was wrong.

“I’d like your take on something, if you don’t mind,” she said quietly.

He studied her, following the lines of tension humming through her face and shoulders. Apparently it was something serious. “Show me.”

He followed her to the sitting room, where she leaned over the chair of the holocomm station to activate a message.

The holo that appeared was of a middle-aged human wearing a Moff’s uniform. He favored them with a warm, paternal smile.

“Good day, Miss Terabine. I am Moff Chavin Salieri. Word of your growing popularity and favor has reached me, and by all accounts it is well deserved. As a patron of the arts, I am very keen to meet you in person. I’m sure you’re quite busy, but I do hope you’ll find the time to return my call before I get too much older.” He chuckled and concluded his message. “Until then, clear skies and clear starways.”

The message ended, and Ama turned to him, a pinched look on her face.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Even if he somehow knew about my audience with the Emperor, I’m not nearly important enough to get a Moff’s attention.”

“You’d be surprised how quickly word travels around certain circles,” he said, distracted. He was fairly sure he’d heard the name Salieri before, but he was having trouble recalling the exact context. After a moment, he set the problem aside for later consideration.

“First things first,” he said, turning the chair of the holostation toward her, “you’re going to call him back. Play the demure and overwhelmed debutante who just can’t believe that a moff is interested in her future.”

She sat hesitantly, a look of alarm on her features. Seeing her incomprehension, he explained. “If I’m correct about his motive for calling you, then it’s essential that he believes our relationship to be more antagonistic than it actually is.” Another blank look. He suppressed a sigh. “For one thing, he mustn’t think that you would ask my advice about this message.” Finally, understanding seemed to dawn on her.

“You think his interest in me has something to do with you.”

He nodded. “And that’s why I don’t want him knowing I have any influence over how you respond to him.” He narrowed his eyes, studying her. “How quickly can you freshen your makeup? Can you make it look like you spent a lot of time on it?”

She smiled. “Give me three minutes.” She disappeared into her room, and Thrawn grabbed his borrowed datapad and began typing up some instructions and tips for Ama.

He glanced up as he heard footsteps enter the room, and his gaze stuck on her in surprise. She had found the time to change into a nice blouse as well as touching up her makeup. Now her lips were a rich burgundy that complemented the light golden-brown of her skin tone, with a line of glimmering gold around them that was echoed over her eyes. Her dark curls were pulled into a loose, artfully messy bun, making him wonder inappropriately how it would feel to run his fingers through it.

Her back straightened as she noticed his attention, and he stifled a grimace at being caught. “Very good,” he told her, and turned back to the datapad. “I think it would be best for me to stay out of the room when you call him back.” He finished typing and showed her the datapad, standing close to her so they could both see the screen. The rim of her ear turned slightly pink; it seemed his proximity and lack of a shirt was affecting her. He stepped a little closer to her and let his hand rest lightly on the small of her back as he gave her some final suggestions.

“The idea is that you’re trying to make a good first impression, hence the make-up. He’s dangling the possibility of a rich, influential patron in front of you. You’re the young, naïve girl who hopes she’s just gotten her lucky break. You’re friendly, almost flirtatious, but still very polite at the same time.”

“Got it,” she murmured. He glanced over her body language and posture, noting with some amusement a growing attraction to him. He hid a smile and leaned forward to put the datapad above the holoterminal’s keyboard where she could glance at it during her conversation.

“You got home from recording, found the moff’s message, and spent half an hour perfecting your appearance before calling him.” She was still looking at the datapad nervously, so he stepped in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Relax. You’re going to do fine,” he told her, giving her a reassuring smile. “He’ll expect you to be a little nervous. Don’t let it throw you off your stride.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, and he gave her shoulder a final pat before leaving the room.

.~*

Thrawn lingered outside the door of the sitting room to listen in on the conversation. He paid attention to the greetings and niceties with half his mind, considering at the same time how to proceed. The key, he had decided, was to make it seem like Ama was acting on her own. Any manipulation he did had to be subtle enough that Moff Salieri—and anyone else involved in this—wouldn’t realize that he had any influence over her.

Of course, that meant he couldn’t do any holonet searches to learn more about Salieri until after Ama’s conversation, since she was supposedly spending that time getting ready. Hopefully this conversation would jog his memory and remind him how he knew of Moff Salieri.

As the conversation turned toward business, Thrawn set aside his thoughts and focused on what they were saying.

“I have not been fortunate enough to attend any of your live performances so far, something I am coming to regret more with every good report I hear of you. I wonder if you would consider spending an evening with me so I could get to know you personally?”

“You offer me a tremendous honor, Moff Salieri—“

“Please, Miss Terabine, you must call me Chavin.”

There was a momentary pause before Ama replied. “Very well, Chavin. I hope you’ll call me Amarylla.”

Thrawn knew he shouldn’t care, but he felt a perverse pleasure, perhaps a relief, that Ama hadn’t given Salieri the familiar form of her name.

“Of course, my dear. Now, you were saying?”

“I would be most honored to meet you in person, and I’m sure we would have plenty to talk about, given your interest in the arts.”

“The honor is all mine, Amarylla. Have you had the chance to see the Makun’ret gardens before?”

“I haven’t. I’ve heard that they’re exquisite, though.”

“I had hoped you’d say as much. Would you accompany me on a visit this Primeday?”

“I would love to, M—Chavin. However, as a single woman in the company of such an illustrious man as yourself, I fear such a private setting might be seen as…inappropriate.”

Moff Salieri gave a soft chuckle. “You have a slave, don’t you? Surely he can serve as your chaperone.”

And there, thought Thrawn darkly, was the trap. Ama wasn’t a good enough liar to convince a career politician that she didn’t have a slave. Of course, even if she could pull the deception off, neither of them had any way of knowing whether or not Thrawn’s current situation was common knowledge in the Imperial Court’s inner circles.

And as if that weren’t enough, he reflected, his fists clenching in anger, the invitation to the Makun’ret Gardens was the trap within a trap. It had always been an extremely exclusive venue, typically requiring both well-placed connections and a several-month waiting list to get in. But in the years since Palpatine had taken power, it had become closely aligned with the New Order’s values to the point where nonhumans were no longer permitted to visit. Of course, there were rumors among those who were interested in such things that Prince Xizor had gotten in, and had in fact reserved the entire membership for an evening to visit with some of his high-level employees.

However, this meant that if he was mistaken about Moff Salieri’s intentions, he might use this trip to get Ama off by herself with no protection. From there, it would be easy to ruin her reputation, take advantage of her, or simply make her disappear if he wished.

For better or for worse, Ama barely hesitated before answering. “So I do. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.”

“Not to worry, my dear Amarylla. These things will come more naturally to you with time and practice. May I count on your company tomorrow evening?”

“You certainly may. And perhaps I can prepare a song or two to show my gratitude for your generosity.”

“That would be lovely, my dear. Permit me to send an aircar for you, say at 1800 CST?”

“You are most kind, Chavin. I’m already looking forward to it.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and when he heard Ama sigh and slump into her chair he entered the room. She looked up at him, her eyes flicking over his still bare torso before coming to rest on his face.

“You did well,” he told her, prompting her to brighten noticeably. “His inviting you to the Makun’ret Gardens is an interesting move. There are a number of reasons he might do this; no doubt showing off his influence is one of them.” His expression turned grave. “It is possible he’s doing it to get you by yourself, away from me. If that happens, both of us would potentially be in danger. I cannot recommend seriously enough that you don’t let him separate us.”

She nodded. “That sounds smart. But what makes you think that’s his plan?”

“The Makun’ret Gardens do not admit nonhumans,” he said. “This fact admits a few different possibilities. Moff Salieri may be intending to show off that he has enough influence to get a nonhuman in, or he may be trying to get you alone to ruin your reputation. Alternately, he might be planning on leaving me outside the gardens, where I would meet with an unfortunate accident with no witnesses other than those handpicked by him. It’s also possible that it’s a perfectly innocent, well-intentioned desire to get to know you and show off a little, but I regard this as the least likely possibility.”

She looked a little alarmed by the end of his speech, so he put a hand on her shoulder. “It will be all right. As long as we stick together, nothing untoward should happen.”

“Sure,” she said, not looking entirely convinced. “But suppose he has someone with him who could step in as a chaperone. How can I keep from leaving you behind without burning any bridges?”

He leaned closer, smiling broadly, and was rewarded as Ama’s eyes widened in alarm. “Why, Ama,” he purred, “it’s nice to know you care.” He leaned a little closer, stopping when her gaze focused intently on his lips. “I’ll give the matter some thought,” he said, his voice going businesslike again, “and let you know what I come up with.”

Her eyebrows drew together in consternation and what was probably budding fury, but he was already turning around to leave the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Thrawn sat on the sofa in the sitting room, watching Ama as she tried not to pace. Thrawn was already dressed for the trip to the Makun’ret Gardens in the outfit he had chosen for himself, an ill-fitting half-cape and suit about a year out of fashion. It was calculated to look nice, but be off just enough that anyone with a refined fashion sense would see it as a deliberate insult from Ama. Hopefully it would reinforce the appearance of casual disrespect she was practicing.

For her part, Ama hadn’t changed yet, complaining that she found this season’s fashion a bit restricting and she wasn’t putting it on until she had to. Her makeup looked nice, though, done in warm bronze shades with a touch of green over her eyes that made him suspect her dress would be the same color. Her hair was in some kind of complicated braid that doubled back and tucked under itself to look like it had no end.

“I think I’ve got the scenarios down,” she said.

“Let’s be certain, shall we?” Thrawn said, and she nodded. “Say I start moving away from you to look at a display that’s more than three meters away.”

“Are you lost?” she said sharply. “Get back here.”

“Sounds good. Now: Whatever you say, Mistress.”

“Watch your tone. Honestly,” she said, turning a long-suffering look on an invisible Moff Salieri, “I can see why the emperor wanted to be rid of him.”

Thrawn nodded in satisfaction. “You seem confident in your responses. Let’s move on.”

Ama stopped pacing and sat down on the far end of the sofa. “What else is there?”

“If Moff Salieri tries to leave me outside the Gardens, you should comment that you would have expected him to have planned this outing a bit better. It’s inflammatory, but nothing less will shame him into trying to get me in with you.”

She nodded, looking distant as she committed his words to memory. “And if he isn’t able to pull the strings to get you in or refuses to be shamed, I’ll just claim to be unimpressed and call it off.”

“I’m afraid that’s not the plan,” he said. “As long as you have an escort, you should be fine. Needless to say, if that disappears you should make a clamor, but I don’t think it will come to that.”

“And what about you?”

He shrugged. “I have self-defense training. I can take care of myself. And if he does kill me, I expect the emperor will be furious about that very soon afterward.”

She cocked her head. “Why is that?”

He glanced at his chrono. “We can discuss it later, if you’d like. Right now, though, it’s time for you to get changed.”

She stood. “Is it that time already?” He waited where he was as she left to get dressed. A few minutes later she returned, pausing in the doorway and looking awkward.

“Ah, would you mind helping me with the lacing?”

Apparently this season’s fashion for women involved an open back with fine ribbon or cord laced over it in an intricate pattern. Ama had everything in place, fortunately, so all he had to do was pull it tight and tie it. He made certain to use a good knot so she wouldn’t suffer a potentially disastrous mishap later.

“There you go,” he said, looking her critically up and down as she murmured a “thank you.” The dress was a deep emerald green with a full calf-length skirt and a pleated bodice spangled with either pieces of green glass or lab-created gems. Despite the folds that kept the dress’s appearance modest, he knew it was quite tight across her torso; no wonder she had been in no hurry to put it on.

She disappeared and returned again with a small clutch purse in a matching hue. “Time?” she asked him, glancing through the small bag before closing it with an air of satisfaction.

“Ten minutes to the hour. Our ride should be here at any time.”

She nodded. “Would you mind going to watch for it?”

He let a sardonic smile crease his lips. “Sure thing, Mistress.”

She hid her grimace, making no comment, and Thrawn reflected that it was a good thing that she was trying to get into character.

When the aircar arrived, Thrawn couldn’t help but scoff. Of course he would send a luxury car. As he escorted Ama to the ostentatious vehicle, he spared a moment to hope that the moff’s goal wasn’t to eliminate both of them. If Salieri was determined to kill him, he might eliminate Ama as well to ensure there were no witnesses. If he knew about her involvement with Equality and her more recent anti-slavery work, he might deduce that she wasn’t nearly as much in favor with Palpatine as it seemed at first.

At this point, however, they were already on their way. Mentioning his concerns to Ama would only stress her out unnecessarily. The chance cube had already been cast.

.~*

Thrawn followed along behind Moff Salieri as he escorted Ama to the entrance of the gardens. The older human may have reached middle age, but he was still quite fit and obviously took care with his appearance. He was probably no more than ten years older than Thrawn, and Thrawn hoped he would be in similarly good shape at that age. Ama was chatting airily with Moff Salieri, her arm tucked through his, and Thrawn was gratified to see that she was good at acting even more empty-headed than she was.

The Makun’ret Gardens were an impressive edifice as seen from the outside. They were contained under a huge dome about half a kilometer in diameter, which rested atop a shorter, circular skyscraper. From the outside, the dome was nearly opaque, though no doubt it would appear transparent from the inside.

The only access to the garden was from within the building. There was a turbolift at the garden’s administrative office which took visitors up to the dome. As they neared the desk, Thrawn took a few deep breaths to sharpen his focus. The next few minutes were sure to be interesting, and it was crucial he was ready to act if necessary.

Moff Salieri made genial small talk with the attendant as he processed their reservation. “Ah, there it is, sir. Please proceed to the turbolift, and have a pleasant evening.”

They started forward, and the attendant seemed to have a minor fit as he saw Thrawn coming forward as well.

“Ah—I’m terribly sorry, sir, but I’m afraid there are only two reservations.”

Moff Salieri stopped, turning ponderously back to the man. “My apologies; I should have clarified. That,” he said, indicating Thrawn with a backhanded wave, “is personal property of Miss Terabine.”

The man fussed about behind his desk for a moment. “This is highly irregular.”

Moff Salieri cut him off before he could say any more. “You might want to work on your office’s communication practices. The arrangements have already been made.” He started moving forward, taking Ama with him, and Thrawn followed close behind them before the bureaucrat could say anything else. Fortunately, it didn’t take him long to get the verification he needed, and within a minute they were on their way up to the gardens.

.~*

They had been strolling through the gardens for about an hour before anything of note happened. They had found occasion to use a few of their planned interactions, and Thrawn had been pleased to see what little suspicion Salieri had toward Ama fade a bit each time.

Ama had spent the intervening time looking around with an expression of wonder as she enjoyed the garden’s stunning arrangements of plants, landscaping, and art. For his own part, Thrawn was trying to enjoy it as well, but the experience was somewhat tainted by his less-than-ideal circumstances. It didn’t help that he knew this would likely be his only opportunity to visit.

As they approached a small group of benches, Salieri suggested, “I’m sure your feet are growing tired, my dear. Perhaps you would like to rest for a moment?”

Ama seemed to perk up a bit at that. “Why, that would be lovely. You’re ever so considerate, Chavin.”

He chuckled as he led her to a seat, waiting until she sat down to claim one facing hers. “It’s nothing more than selfishness in disguise, actually. I’m not as young as I once was, and I find myself needing to take a break every now and then.”

Thrawn decided to forego sitting down since the benches formed an intimate conversation ring and he had no desire to be part of their discussion. Glancing around, he spied a statuette on a nearby pedestal that looked familiar. Seeing that they weren’t discussing anything of consequence and the statuette was in plain view of the pair of humans, he decided to take a closer look.

As he came around to the front of the figure, he realized why he recognized it. He had tried to buy it at an auction a few years ago but had been outbid.

“Are you lost?” Ama’s voice, raised to carry to him, shattered his concentration. “Or have you forgotten why I brought you?” She dropped her voice as she turned to the moff, making some comment Thrawn couldn’t quite hear.

He turned away from the statuette, rage rising in him. Later he might be able to appreciate her dedication to the plan, but he had very much wanted to study the statue. Now he would never get the chance.

“Oh, let the poor creature wander a little,” Salieri said loudly. “He can chaperone as well from over there as from here. Didn’t you know he’s an art lover?”

Ama held a look of uncertainty for a moment before releasing it with a shrug. “Well, if you’re quite sure.” She cast a glance at Thrawn before turning back to Moff Salieri, anxiety filling her tone. “You don’t think I’m too hard on him, do you?”

“Of course not,” Salieri assured her. “Don’t let his artistic sensibilities fool you. He’s a military creature. If you’re not firm with him, he’ll walk right over you.”

Thrawn tuned out the conversation as he turned back to the statuette. He found it quite interesting that Moff Salieri apparently wanted him to see the statuette. It could mean that he knew Thrawn had tried to buy the statuette. If so, then their stopping to rest here was no coincidence.

Thrawn knew there were people in the Imperial Court who opposed him quietly, taking no direct action against him but secretly working to undermine him and interfere with his plans. He was beginning to suspect that Moff Salieri was one of these people; if not, he was certainly working with them. He lingered by the statuette, trying to find other pieces to the puzzle, glancing up only when he heard Ama and Salieri approaching.

“Like it, do you?” the moff said conversationally. “I donated that piece myself. Bought it at an auction a few years ago.”

Thrawn felt another flash of anger. Surely it wasn’t necessary to belabor the point so. “How generous of you,” he said.

“Watch your tone,” Ama admonished him.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, making an effort to remove the ire from his tone this time.

“I am pleased to see you have him well in hand,” Salieri said, steering Ama toward a part of the gardens they hadn’t yet seen.

About an hour later, they encountered a group of humans seated in a slightly larger conversation ring. Moff Salieri led Ama, with Thrawn trailing along behind, unerringly toward the men, and as they got closer, Thrawn frowned as he recognized a few of them.

In fact, all the ones he recognized were rivals or opponents of his. He hid a grim smile as he realized beyond any doubt that this trip was apparently all about him. He wondered for a moment whether that knowledge would make Ama relieved or disappointed.

One of the men called a greeting to Salieri, and he led Ama to a seat in the circle. Thrawn hung back, studying the group’s body language dynamics and memorizing the few faces he didn’t recognize.

After a few minutes of conversation, Ama began to sing one of the songs she had prepared for this evening. As soon as she started, two men detached from the fringe of the group and approached him.

One was Admiral Fareen, a real piece of work who never missed a chance to take a dig at him whenever Thrawn had the displeasure of working with him. He tentatively identified the other as Rais Ammegda, an important bureaucrat in the Imperial Palace. If memory served, he dealt with contracting for the Navy, and Thrawn had heard he was anti-alien, though he knew nothing else about the man.

It looked like he’d be getting to know him a little better in the next few minutes.

“Look how the mighty have fallen,” sneered Fareen, and Thrawn dropped his chin, bracing himself against the ridicule he knew was coming.

By the time he and Ama got into their aircar to ride home, Thrawn was in a black mood. They didn’t speak at all on the ride home, and though Thrawn tried to hide it, he was upset by how successful his enemies’ tactics had been against him.


	6. Chapter 6

Note: “Osk” is the letter “O” in Aurebesh.

Chapter 6

As they entered the apartment, Thrawn dropped into a chair at the table and watched as Ama walked, humming softly to herself, to the refrigeration unit and poured herself a glass of wine. Obviously, she had enjoyed the evening far more than he had.

She returned to stand beside him, leaning back against the edge of the table as she sipped her wine.

“I think it’s safe to say they weren’t plotting to kill either of us. In fact, Chavin seemed genuinely interested in my talents.”

Thrawn felt an irrational burst of anger at her for being so casually friendly toward the man he now believed headed the silent opposition to his efforts to gain power and influence. When he replied, his words came out more sharply than he had intended.

“This evening was never about you.”

She reacted with surprise, more to his tone than his words, he suspected. Still, when she spoke she kept her voice mild.

“I take it you were able to learn something from the men who spoke to you while I was singing?”

“You could say that.”

“Oh, come on, Thrawn,” she said impatiently. “I’m dying to hear your analysis.”

He stood, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be alone. “The entire thing was planned as a slap to my face. That’s all you need to know.” He turned to leave.

“This is another thing like your injuries, isn’t it? You’re just going to let it fester until someone forces you to take care of yourself.”

He spun back to face her. “This is nothing like that. I can handle my enemies mocking me without needing you to act as my therapist.” Seeing the stubborn set of her jaw, he stepped closer. “You understand nothing. The men of my attack force are even now being sent to die under another commander. Compared to what they will suffer, my problems are nothing.”

“Thrawn…” She set her wineglass aside, stunned expression morphing to concern, and put her hand on his arm. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

He felt his face harden. “Don’t show me your sympathy.”

She shook her head. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. The least I can do is show you some consideration.”

He stepped even closer, looming over her. “Let go of me. I don’t need your pity.”

Her grip tightened instead. “Forget that,” she said with asperity. “There’s a difference between empathy and pity. I’m not going to let you go suffer in silence. Trust me, you’ll feel better for talking it out.”

His patience snapped, and he pushed her backwards onto the table. Her grip on his forearm tightened painfully as she reflexively tried to right herself, and he used that leverage to control her descent so she wouldn’t bounce her head off the hard surface. He planted his other hand on the table beside her shoulder, leaning over her menacingly.

Eyes wide, she released his arm to push ineffectually at his shoulders. “Get off me!”

He had almost gotten used to her commanding him at the Makun’ret Gardens, but this time her voice held a note of panic rather than the bored imperiousness she had adopted earlier.

He shook his head. “You will learn to listen to me. I won’t let you push me around indefinitely, no matter how well you mean it.” He watched every thought she entertained cross her face, alarm to uncertainty, followed by concentration as she tried to figure a way to get him to let her go.

He leaned in a little closer, a cruel smile on his lips. “You don’t have the controls for my collar. How, exactly, do you intend to make me get off you?”

A glimmer of fear appeared in her eyes. “Please let me go,” she said, entreating.

He shook his head again. “I warned you not to show me any sympathy. You see,” he said, keeping his tone conversational even as he pushed his knee in between hers, forcing her legs apart, “what I really need to make me feel better is to be in control of my situation.” Finally, true fear blossomed in her eyes, and she began to squirm, trying to break free.

It was impossible not to notice the slenderness of her frame as she pressed against him, seeking escape. Likewise, the heaving of her bosom, accentuated by her lovely dress, was pleasantly distracting. He let her struggle for about a minute, long enough to recognize the futility of her effort, before speaking.

“You do realize that isn’t accomplishing anything other than exciting me, don’t you?” She subsided, and he sighed, tiring of her fear and distrust. “Ama, am I hurting you in any way?”

“Yes!” she said, false bravado coloring the word. “Let me go!”

Now he was truly irritated. Obviously she had no idea how much care he had taken not to actually hurt her. He very deliberately placed his hand on her throat, feeling her swallow as his fingers curled around the slender column.

“Consider carefully your situation for a moment. If I wanted to hurt you it would be very easy for me to do so.” He waited until the anger and fear in her expression subsided, replaced by thoughtfulness. “Now, let’s try this again: am I hurting you in any way?”

“No,” she said softly, her vocal cords vibrating under his palm, and he returned his hand to the table beside her shoulder.

“See, that wasn’t so terribly difficult, was it?”

She gave no response to that, and he smiled again, the broad, satisfied smile of a tooka that has found the milk. He let his voice drop to a lower register. “What seems to be the problem, then?”

She took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her voice was a bit unsteady. “I want you to leave me alone.”

Liar, he thought darkly, and narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t care if you told me to kriff off, or that it’s none of my business.” He leaned in close, putting his lips centimeters from her ear, and let his voice turn threatening. “Lie to yourself, if that’s how you want to live. But do not lie to me.”

Her eyes went wide, her earlier fear returning, alloyed with something else. He moved down, touching his lips to the base of her throat. She gasped, and he wished he could have seen her face at that moment. Even without the visual cues, though, he could feel the tension in her body change from the stillness of fear to something else, something vibrant and erotic.

He moved up a few centimeters and laid another feather-light kiss on her neck. She didn’t gasp this time, but the tension in her muscles ratcheted up a notch higher.

By the time his lips reached the corner of her jaw, her hands were clutching his shoulders, drawing him closer instead of pushing him away. “Ama,” he murmured, letting his lips graze the lobe of her ear, “what do you really want?”

A long moment passed, tension and desire lacing the air between them. Thrawn schooled himself to patience, hoping he’d read her correctly. Finally she relaxed, surrendering beneath him.

“Darkness take me,” she cursed softly, but the epithet held no rancor, just wry resignation.

He cupped the side of her face, looking deeply into her eyes. He was pleased to find no uncertainty or reticence reflected there, just desire and anticipation.

He captured her lips in a light kiss and had to stifle a groan. He’d forgotten how good it felt to claim a lover’s lips. He started the kiss off gently, unsure of her level of experience, but when she opened her mouth for him, he took full advantage of the invitation. She moaned under his assault, arching her back, and he slipped his free arm between her and the table, pulling her body more firmly against his.

His probing tongue found hints of the wine she’d been drinking earlier, but he was far more intoxicated by her own taste. Finally he released her mouth, and they both spent a moment gasping for oxygen. Somehow, while he’d been kissing her, he’d pushed his way between her thighs until his erection was pressed against her core. She’d wrapped her arms around his neck in return, though he could not have said when, and now her fingertips twined through the hair at the base of his skull.

He bent to lay another kiss on her throat, and her fingers tightened reflexively in his hair, pulling it slightly. He’d have to break her of that, he thought dimly, nipping her throat lightly in warning. Unexpectedly, she jerked and froze beneath him. He raised his gaze to look at her, concerned, and found her staring over his head with eyes glassy and lips parted in an “osk” of surprise.

“Liked that, did you?” he asked, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he enjoyed her revelation.

Her eyes focused on him, and he saw a blush suffusing her cheeks. “I…nobody’s ever done that to me before.”

He put his mouth to the side of her neck again, this time letting his teeth scrape lightly over her skin. She shuddered beneath him in response, her hips bucking upward against his.

“Thrawn!”

The naked hunger in her voice made his penis twitch, and suddenly, irrationally, he hated her dress, hated the voluminous folds for coming between them. He resisted the urge to tear it off her, murmuring against her throat instead. “You never did answer my question, Ama.”

“Question?” she repeated, distracted. He raised his head to meet her eyes, found them glazed with pleasure.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Her eyes cleared slightly and her blush deepened as she swallowed, her gaze never leaving his.

“I want you.”

He tamped down on his frustration. If she wasn’t willing to say it, that meant she was letting her body’s desires dictate her choices. That, in turn, meant she’d regret her decision in the morning. As much as he wanted her, he would abide by his rule that if she couldn’t say it, he wouldn’t be doing it.

He tipped his head to the side and flicked his collar lightly with a finger. “You already have me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she exclaimed.

He shook his head. “Let me know when you decide exactly what you want.” He used the table to lever himself up off her, but before he could step away she wrapped her legs around his hips, trapping him. The sudden, intimate contact was too much, and he fell upon her again, grabbing her wrists this time, pinning them above her head with one hand and tangling the other in her hair. He used his grip on her curls to gently but firmly pull her head back, leaving her neck completely exposed and vulnerable.

Again she arched up beneath him, prompting him to grind his hips against hers instinctively. He dipped his head to put his mouth next to her ear, injecting pure dominance into his voice.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ama. My self-control is excellent, but it does have a limit, and you are pushing me close to its end.” He watched as goosebumps spread along her arms and the exposed part of her chest.

“Thrawn…please…” she gasped. He relaxed his grip on her hair so he could look into her eyes.

“Please what?”

“Make love to me. Please,” she said.

He kissed her mouth, growling against her lips. It was no gentle seduction this time, but a fierce, possessive gesture. She made a soft sound of desire, almost a whimper, and he broke the kiss short before he lost himself completely in her sweetness. He took in a few deep breaths, working to regain mastery over his voice.

When he was sure he could properly impart the seriousness of his words to her, he spoke. “Ama, be absolutely certain that you want me. Right now, I am angry and hurting. I will take everything you offer, and I will not apologize if you change your mind tomorrow.”

The passion faded somewhat from her eyes, and he was relieved to see she was giving his words due consideration. He saw her assent on her face as she drew in a breath, and placed his fingertip on her lips before she could speak.

“One last thing.” A hard, possessive smile crossed his lips. “I will accept nothing less than your unconditional surrender.” Her eyes widened at that. “I will have you wholly in my power, or not at all.”

She deliberated for a few seconds before answering. “In that case,” she said, her voice light but her eyes dark with desire, “I surrender unconditionally.

.~*

Thrawn woke when he felt Ama climb out of bed but kept his eyes closed. He wasn’t sure how her mental and emotional state would be after last night; plus, he was still tired. He lay and dozed for a while, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. Finally, the smell of frying sterram reached him, enticing him to wakefulness.

He stretched languidly, savoring the slight ache in his muscles. He typically kept himself in excellent shape, but he hadn’t had any good way to work out for the last week or so, and he had spent last night using muscle groups he hadn’t needed in years.

He got up, glancing at his clothing, discarded on the floor of the bedroom. He gathered it up, not bothering to get dressed before crossing to the room he had been sleeping in to put on fresh clothing.

When he stepped into the kitchen, Ama glanced up at him and smiled. She blushed a bit at the same time, prompting him to smile back at her. Apparently she was feeling good about last night. He could see a few advantages to cultivating her affections, so he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

She melted in his arms, relaxing into him, and he lightly kissed her cheek.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning.” She seemed happy to stand with him in silence, so he put a hand under her chin, turning her head so he could trail kisses along her jaw. She made a soft humming sound as he claimed her lips, her upper body turning a bit more toward him. He tried to tease her lips apart, and she pulled away, laughing.

“Thrawn! The sterram is going to burn!”

He released her with a satisfied smile and went to the cupboard to get a pair of plates.

“There are chervo eggs in the warmer as well,” she said, and he pulled them out, dividing them between the plates. They ate in a comfortable silence, and when they had finished Ama took the dishes to the washer.

As she finished her task, Thrawn came up behind her and caught her in an embrace as she turned around. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him without reservation. He pulled her snugly against him, weaving his fingers into her hair as he settled her curves perfectly against him. When they broke for air, he cast a glance at the wall chrono.

“What time do you need to be at work?”

She looked at the chrono as well. “Not until 10:30. I have almost an hour before I should leave.”

Thrawn gave her a predatory smile, tightening his grip on her hair and pulling her head back.

“Excellent.”


	7. Chapter 7

That evening, as he lay in Ama’s bed, Thrawn realized that he had neglected to do his usual sweep of the newsnets to keep up to date on military and political changes. He cursed himself mentally for the lapse. Hard as it was to believe he was that far gone over Ama, it was clear that she was the source of his distraction.

Or, more accurately, the pleasurable chemicals his brain released when he was in her presence. He mused with dark humor on the vagaries of biology. Humans tended to be a varied lot when it came to their degree of openness regarding sex, although prudishness was fast becoming the fashion on Imperial Center. And of course each different species had its own norms and taboos.

His own people, for example, tended to be reticent on the subject, trying to teach it in a matter-of-fact fashion, though it typically came across as stiff and embarrassed. In fact, if the drive to reproduce weren’t such an undeniable imperative, they would probably suffer from low birth rates.

He smiled and shifted a lock of Ama’s hair out of his face. This was yet another area where he disagreed with his people’s general consensus. After all, studies linked regular sexual release in males to increased reproductive health and lowered likelihood of prostate cancer, so clearly it shouldn’t be neglected. And, of course, there were a number of benefits for females as well, though they tended to be more to the psychological and emotional side of the spectrum.

Certainly, Ama was no great match for him mentally or intellectually. But despite that, she gave him something he desperately needed—an arena of his life where he was in control. He dared to hope that she was getting some benefits from their association as well. While he wouldn’t choose her to bear him children, she served well enough as a short-term distraction.

He frowned as a though occurred to him. “Ama?” he said softly, checking to see if she was still awake.

“Mmm?”

“I never thought to ask if you are using birth control.”

She stiffened in his arms, and he knew the answer before she spoke. “No. I haven’t needed one for a while. It never even occurred to me.”

She was wide awake now and noticeably agitated, so he made an effort to calm her, stroking her hair gently and speaking with reassurance. “There’s no need to panic. Our species might be different enough that pregnancy isn’t possible.” She relaxed slightly at his words. “Of course,” he added, brushing a kiss over her temple, “we should probably take precautions in the future, just in case.”

“Agreed,” she murmured.

As he listened to her breathing even out and slow, he refused to let himself feel embarrassment at his oversight. This was the insidious nature of biology, to trick even the most stoic or careful of beings into propagating their genes. After all, if that drive were any less powerful, the species might have died out in its infancy, supplanted by something else that spread more aggressively. As for the possibility that she could already be pregnant, well, he’d worry about that if and when it became an issue.

.~*

Thrawn snapped awake with the impression that he’d heard something. He lay still, trying to quiet his breathing, listening to see if the noise would be repeated. Seconds passed by, stretched into a minute, and still he heard nothing.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep again until he had checked out the apartment, he began disentangling himself from Ama. She shifted slightly and murmured something as he pulled away but didn’t wake.

With no warning, the bedroom door slid open. Thrawn reacted immediately, planting his feet against Ama’s back and kicking out, pushing them apart and away from the center of the bed. Their weight difference was great enough that she went flying with a muffled cry of surprise, dropping over the edge of the bed and out of his sight, while he didn’t quite make it to the far edge.

He flinched reflexively as a blaster bolt lanced toward him, striking the bed where he’d been lying moments before. As he struggled to get free of the bedcovers tangled around his waist, he reflected that it was a good thing he had honed his reflexes with a lifetime of military training. This was not the first time it had saved his life, and he rather hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

The few seconds it took him to get free felt interminably long, but finally he dropped down beside the bed where he would be out of the gunman’s line of sight for a few precious moments. He shifted carefully into a sprinter’s crouch, tensing to spring. He would get only one chance at this; if he didn’t immediately close to grappling range he would die. He spared a useless wish for his sidearm, sitting in its cabinet in his own apartment, before setting everything else aside and sharpening his focus.

Over the distant harsh gasps of Ama’s breathing and the pounding of his own heart, Thrawn heard a stealthy footfall, another. He tracked their location relative to his position, waiting for the right time. A second before the assassin’s figure came into view, he launched himself forward, shoulders lowered as he rose to tackle the shadowy form across its midsection. The intruder shot again, the bolt barely skimming Thrawn’s shoulder. He grabbed onto the assassin, bringing him down, and grinned savagely as he heard his head thud against the wall on the way down.

He pinned the man flat on his back and began trying to wrest the blaster pistol from his hand. He could see now that his attacker was a human male, probably in his thirties, with fair hair and skin and an extremely surprised expression, the latter no doubt due to being attacked unexpectedly by a naked alien. Thrawn also noted that the man didn’t seem to be nearly as good at grappling as he was at shooting, though that blow to his head might have something to do with that. Either way, Thrawn managed to gain control of the blaster fairly quickly. Unlike the assassin, he was more interested in getting information from his opponent than in killing him, so he sent the weapon skidding across the floor, out of both of their reach.

The man immediately tried to twist free and chase after the blaster, and Thrawn took advantage of his change in focus, letting his grasp slip so the man thought he could get free, then twisting his arm back into a joint lock. He increased the pressure until the man cried out in pain, then backed off a tiny bit and held the lock there.

His assailant was still trying to get away, so he waited, holding on until the man realized he was only hurting himself by struggling. When he went still, Thrawn spoke.

“Who sent you?”

The man said nothing, his shoulders and the angle of his chin taking on a defiant pose, and Thrawn applied a little more force to his arm, increasing it steadily.

“Let me know when you’re ready to talk, and I’ll let up.”

The man had begun breathing faster, panting shallowly as he fought through the pain. Thrawn stopped before actually dislocating anything, holding his arm twisted at a painful angle. He knew from personal experience that the pain was excruciating; he must have training in resisting interrogation.

“Ama,” Thrawn called, “bring me some rope or cord.” He didn’t hear her move or reply, so he risked a quick glance toward her. He saw no sign that she’d heard him and cursed mentally; apparently she was frozen in fear. But then, what could he expect from a civilian with no training?

He released the man’s arm and began to wrestle him toward the bed, where he might be able to use the bedsheets to bind him. The man, no doubt realizing Thrawn had no backup, began struggling again. Thrawn did his best to pin the human with his knees as he grabbed a corner of the sheet. Suddenly his would-be captive exploded into violent motion, bucking Thrawn partially off himself and twisting sideways. Off-balance, Thrawn wasn’t able to reestablish a firm grip on him, and the man slipped away. He bounced to his feet and chased him through the apartment, but came to a stop as the assassin ran out the front door.

Apparently the man had had the foresight to leave his escape route open. Thrawn, conceding defeat, closed the apartment door and made sure it was locked. Not that it had done any good earlier, but he doubted the assassin would be back again tonight. He checked the apartment for any other surprises before returning to the bedroom. Ama was sitting on the bed wrapped in the blanket with a lost expression on her face. He took the blaster and hid it away in his room before returning.

He sat on the bed behind her and gathered her close, quelling his irritation over how unhelpful she’d been, reminding himself that upper-class human females were by and large trained to be useless from a young age. She turned toward him, clinging to his shoulders. It seemed to help, as she began to calm down in his presence.

“I thought we were going to die,” she said in a small voice.

He gave her a warm, confident smile. “Not on my watch.”

She nodded, her hair brushing his shoulder, and he ran his fingers lightly through her curls. After a few minutes he asked gently, “Feeling a bit better yet?”

“A little,” she responded, sounding more like her usual self. He kissed her cheek and eased her back gently until she was lying flat with her head on the pillow.

“What you need,” he said, moving to lie between her thighs, “is something to distract you.”

She stared down at him, incomprehension in her eyes, until he kissed the inside of her thigh, just above the knee. He glanced up to see her eyes wide, and not from fear this time. He moved up slowly, laying kisses the whole way, then stopped just before he reached the juncture of her thighs. “Well?”

She looked down at him, face flushed and lips parted slightly. “I think it’s working.”

He smiled and lowered his mouth to her skin again.

.~*

For once, Thrawn had taken charge of the kitchen, using his limited cooking skills to their full extent to put together a nice meal for himself and Ama. She would never know, but he was treating her to the closest thing he could make to traditional Csillan cuisine. Fortunately, traditional fare tended to be simple to prepare, something which, he reflected, said much about his people’s priorities.

Ama, though she tried to hide it, was bursting with curiosity about the whole ordeal. He couldn’t really blame her; this was the first cooking he’d done beyond simply warming a prepared dish since she had met him.

“So, what’s the occasion?” she asked casually, and he glanced over at her. She was seated at the table, working on something on her datapad. He hid a smile at her polite attempt to pry.

“No occasion,” he said. “It has been quite a while since I had both the time and opportunity to do some cooking.” He frowned at the pot of nerf gravy simmering on the stove, added some serrif spice to it and stirred it gently. “To be honest, I’m far from a good cook. I don’t get nearly enough practice to be good at it. I do hope you won’t be disappointed.”

She gave him a warm smile. “I’ll be sure to keep my expectations low.”

Despite his half-joking disavowal, he was pleased at how the meal turned out. He had overcooked the flerins slightly, but otherwise everything had turned out nicely. Ama seemed to enjoy it. She tended to prefer sweeter or savory food over spiced, so he had toned back the seasonings, adding them in the intensity he liked on his own plate.

Partway through the meal, a chime signaled a visitor at the apartment’s door. Frowning, Ama rose to answer it. She pressed a button to activate the viewscreen and stiffened abruptly at what she saw. Thrawn rose, concerned, and approached as she keyed for the door to open.

There was a naval officer standing outside the door, a lieutenant, he saw as he came to stand behind Ama. The man raised an official datapad and began to read.

“Greetings and salutations. The emperor requests the presence of Amarylla Terabine and Thrawn upon their earliest availability. Transportation is provided for your convenience. In the emperor’s name!” He looked up at the two of them expectantly, and Thrawn and Ama shared a glance. They both knew that a request from the emperor was really a command.

He leaned close and spoke softly into her ear. “You might want to get the controls for the collar.” She nodded jerkily and headed to the back of the apartment. For his part, Thrawn had come to this apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back; he was ready to leave the same way. Ama rejoined them, now wearing a light jacket.

“Shall we?” Thrawn asked laconically, and the lieutenant turned to lead them to the waiting aircar. The vehicle’s layout put the driver in a separate compartment from the passengers, giving them at least the illusion of privacy. They fastened their safety harnesses, and the driver lifted off.

Ama turned to him with an anxious expression. “I wonder what it could be this time,” she fretted.

Thrawn didn’t share her nervousness, relaxing back into the crash couch. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Most likely the emperor is rescinding my punishment.”

She looked at him askance. “You said something the other day, before we went to the gardens…” She frowned, obviously trying to remember his words, and he debated how much to tell her.

He shrugged one shoulder, wondering for a moment if the emperor was spying on their conversation. He decided to mind his words, in any case.

“The emperor underestimates me occasionally. He’s done so on a few occasions and been pleasantly surprised. This time he doubted my ability to analyze a situation and accurately predict the outcome. My loyalty as well,” he added with a faint smile, “both to him and to those under my command.

“Of course, my standing up to him was probably not a pleasant surprise for him, but I dare to hope he now understands my reasons and accepts that it was not an act of disloyalty, but rather the opposite.”

Ama stared up at him, a faint look of horror on her face. “Standing up to him? What exactly did you do?”

He resisted the urge to shrug again, keeping his posture and expression casual. “I simply told him I wouldn’t waste my men’s lives in an attack for which we were unprepared and undermanned.”

She shook her head, looking thunderstruck. “You are far braver than I am,” she said softly. “I mean, I couldn’t even say no to a gift.”

“Perhaps. But you do not have the standing that I do with the emperor.” They fell into a silence that lasted the rest of the way to the palace.

To Thrawn’s surprise, they were ushered into the emperor’s presence together. They approached and bowed as one, rising at Palpatine’s command.

“Miss Terabine,” he said slowly, “I find myself in the unfortunate situation of needing your gift back much sooner than I had anticipated.”

Beside him, Ama bowed her head respectfully. “I understand, Your Majesty.”

“I would be remiss, of course, if I did not offer you a gift of equal value in its place.”

“Such an honor is unnecessary, Your Majesty. Your favor is the greatest gift I could ever receive.”

Palpatine smiled at that. “You have heard of the Sabian Society, I presume?”

The question seemed to take Ama by surprise. “Of course,” she said, losing the calm, practiced tone she had been using. “What musician hasn’t?”

The emperor nodded once, seeming satisfied. “You may expect an invitation to their ranks in the near future.”

Ama seemed absolutely floored by that. “I…thank you, Your Majesty. I don’t know what to say.”

“You need not say a thing, my dear,” he said. “It’s written on your face.” He raised a hand, presumably to dismiss her, then paused with a sly smile. “I do hope you weren’t too rough on Thrawn during his stay with you.”

Thrawn stifled a smile at that, saw that Ama was trying to do the same with a blush. “I dare to hope so,” she managed, darting a glance at him.

“That is a relief,” Palpatine said. “And on that note—the collar’s controls?”

Ama dug the remote out of her pocket and handed it to Thrawn at the emperor’s gesture.

“Thank you for your time,” Palpatine told her, dismissing her with a wave.

Ama bowed and left, and for a long moment Thrawn and Palpatine simply looked at one another in silence. Finally the emperor let a smile cross his lips and shook his head lightly.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised. Of course you would find a way to turn even this to your advantage.”

Thrawn wondered for the hundredth time exactly how the emperor managed to learn unspoken secrets. Not for the first time, he wished he had access to the kind of power that Palpatine and Vader wielded. He settled on a shrug for an answer, not wanting to confirm anything in case the emperor was just guessing.

“Get rid of that collar,” Palpatine said, almost wearily, and Thrawn gratefully did so. He took what felt like the first full breath in a week and a half as it disconnected.

“I am rescinding my previous decision and reinstating your rank. You will take command of Senior Captain Shiro’s old attack force and continue with your mission as before.”

Thrawn bowed his head. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

The emperor made no immediate response, and Thrawn raised his head to find the human frowning at him. He hadn’t been dismissed, so he simply waited.

“Well, go ahead and gloat a little,” Palpatine said, sounding irritated. “You’re one of a very few who can get away with it.”

Thrawn reflected with a touch of sadness that, even after all this time, Palpatine still didn’t really know him. “There is no need for that, Your Majesty. Everyone makes mistakes, even you and I. I hope that in the future you will trust my assessments and give greater weight to my recommendations.”

“Always the politic one,” Palpatine said, shaking his head with what seemed to be a rueful smile. “I think that’s a safe bet.” He waved his hand in a clear dismissal, and Thrawn left the throne room.

.~*

Thrawn was already seated at his holoterminal, doing some light research, when a call came through. When he saw it was Ama, he spent a long moment debating whether to answer or let it go to the messaging system. He realized his reluctance was just cowardice in disguise and answered the call.

The holoprojector formed an image of Ama’s head and shoulders. Her face was composed, but he detected hints of anxiety in her stance.

“Hello, Senior Captain. I, ah, I hope you’re doing well.”

He nodded. “Much better than before, thank you.”

“You, ah, left a number of things at my apartment when you left. I was wondering if you wanted to come get any of them.”

He paused to figure out her meaning. He hadn’t brought anything of his own with him to her apartment. Perhaps she meant the clothing and effects she had gotten for him?

She bit her lip, and the nervous gesture answered his unspoken question. He had dismissed their brief relationship, but she obviously hadn’t moved on so quickly.

“Thank you,” he said, “but I have no need for any of it. If you want to get rid of them there are charitable organizations who will pass them on to the needy.”

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she understood the subtext of his answer; her shoulders seemed to drop slightly at his words.

“Very well. I wish you well in your endeavors, Senior Captain.”

“And you as well, Miss Terabine.” He ended the call and returned to his research. He was leaving Coruscant in a week, and he wanted to make full use of his database access while he was here.


	8. Epilogue

Ama glared at her wine—her third glass—as though the nearly-empty cup was to blame for the intrusion. She debated ignoring the chime, but with her luck it would be another summons from the emperor. She drained the dregs of the wine vindictively before rising to answer the door.

The man standing outside her apartment wore the livery of a message delivery service.

“Amarylla Terabine?” he asked.

“Yes?” she said, trying to disguise her annoyance.

He opened the box he was holding, and as her gaze lit on the slave collar resting within, everything seemed to stop for a moment, flash-frozen.

“Will you be coming?” the messenger asked diffidently.

Ama debated for a moment. Even if she was right about the sender, did she want to take the risk? Yes, she realized, and threw caution to the wind.

“Yes,” she said in answer to the man’s question, and stepped outside, letting the apartment door close behind her. The messenger led her to his aircar, and she spent the short ride quashing doubts and second thoughts.

The aircar stopped at a motel. “Room 470,” he told her. “Have a good evening.”

She went to the indicated door and rang the chime, suddenly feeling apprehensive. She wasn’t entirely relieved when Thrawn answered the door and gestured her inside wordlessly. She looked around, her eyes settling on everything except the man in front of her, until he put his hand under her chin, forcing her to focus on him.

She gazed into his gleaming eyes, remembering every detail of their time together and wondering what that exquisite mind was thinking.

“Have you taken another lover?” he asked her finally, and she shook her head, working moisture into her mouth.

“No. No one else.” She managed a humorless smile. “No one else really compares to you, you know.”

He smiled at that, his hand turning gentle on her chin, and kissed her soundly.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

.~*

That’s all, folks! As always, please leave a comment. You can’t imagine how inspiring even a few words are to an author. I have more Thrawn stories in the works, and all support received will be used to fuel my writing.


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